


Dogwood

by wocket



Series: Togetherness [1]
Category: American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: Burt Reynolds - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 08:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: The origin of a love story. Georgia, 1971.





	Dogwood

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [these images](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/64/87/a4/6487a45551dd81a05c4666d13ff4b85d.jpg).

The first thing Jon Voight really notices about Burt Reynolds is his smile. Jon had told himself he was swearing off men when he started dating the woman who was about to become his wife, but there’s something about Burt that makes him feel something funny inside. Burt is good-looking, sure, but he’s got that million-dollar smile and a laugh to kill for.

Jon is fucked.

*

The cast of _Deliverance_ have been staying at the Kingwood Country Club in Rabun County, Georgia since rehearsals began a week or two ago. The cast members grab dinner at the hotel bar after the work day is over, or gather for drinks.

One evening Burt buys Jon a drink at the hotel bar. Burt is sitting alone at the far end of the bar - Jon didn’t even see him come in or notice him until he has the bartender send Jon a gin and tonic. Burt gives a friendly wave of his fingers when the blond man finally catches his eye.

Jon raises his glass to Burt in a silent toast.

Burt doesn’t say anything or approach Jon, just watches him while he finishes his whiskey. He leaves a five dollar bill underneath his glass before disappearing.

*

The next time Jon sees Burt at the bar, he comes over to Jon to say hello. Burt motions for the bartender to give him the same thing Jon is having after he takes a seat.

They haven’t spent much time talking, but once they get going, it feels like there’s no topic off bounds, nothing they couldn’t talk about with each other. Burt asks him about his theatre background, and Jon asks him about growing up in the south, and by the end of the evening it feels like they know each other’s life stories.

When it’s time to settle the bill, Burt tells the bartender to put it on the room’s tab. When he asks his name, Burt says “Ned Beatty,” and gives Ned’s room number instead of his own.

Jon snickers as they walk out, though Burt keeps his composure until they make it outside, his loud laugh piercing the night. It’s a foggy evening, the mist creeping in so thick that they can’t see but three feet ahead.

There’s a few lakes on the property, and Burt leads the way to the biggest. They’ve been at the resort exactly the same length of time, and somehow Burt already knows the place like the back of his hand. The two men walk down to the water’s edge where the grass is damp. Burt plops down and Jon sits beside him. They watch the fog creep over the water, rolling up the bank. 

“What do you say?”

Jon looks to Burt, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Burt jerks his head toward the water. He starts unbuttoning his shirt with a sly grin.

“No,” Jon says, trying not to look at Burt’s chest. Burt is always full of these crazy ideas. Skinny dipping in the lake certainly wasn’t past him. “No way.”

Burt throws his head back and laughs, but he stops taking his clothes off.

“I’ll get you in there by the time we wrap. You wait and see.”

Jon laughs with him, and they lie back on the grass, arms folded behind their heads. 

An hour later, when he stands up, Burt offers Jon his hand, ever the gentleman. Jon takes it, letting Burt haul him onto his feet. If Burt holds on to his hand a moment too long, Jon doesn’t say a damn thing.

*

The first time Burt kisses Jon, he makes sure he does it in a way where he can pass it off as a joke. 

Burt and Jon are wrestling in the pool, splashing each other and dunking one another under the water when it happens. Burt is gripping Jon’s biceps, trying to push him beneath the surface, when all of a sudden Burt plants a kiss right on his mouth, and whether it’s to distract him or for some other reason, Jon doesn’t know. Stunned, Jon can’t really move. 

A second later it’s like the kiss never happened, and Burt is cupping his hands full of water and letting it spill all over Jon’s face. Jon splutters.

*

Their next kiss is an accident, and Jon still thinks that Burt is going to try and act like it’s some kind of gag, because he questions everything. He's sure Burt is about to grin and laugh and talk about how funny Jon’s face looks when Jon steps real close and shuts him up with another kiss, this time open-mouthed and wet. It doesn’t take long for Burt to respond, gripping Jon’s arms tight and holding him in place. He strokes his thumb against the inside of Jon’s elbow.

When Jon opens his eyes, Burt is right there looking into them. His own eyes are fond and kind, and there’s a spark that gleams behind them. 

Jon never stood a chance.

*

Burt’s so charming that he can always convince someone to go along with his schemes or to listen to him. It never takes long. Something about him makes Jon feel like a kid just out of high school again. There’s something about his friend that makes Jon want to be just as carefree, to follow suit and forget about all the questions that are always on his mind. 

One day after they finish filming, they borrow a car from the hotel clerk, a plan Jon was actually okay with (their back-up idea, which he found less acceptable, was to steal keys from the valet). They drive around the state park with no plan other than getting lost and getting high.

Burt finds a spot to park, although Jon doesn’t think of it in those terms until after that night. He thinks they’re just finding a secluded spot to smoke some reefer.

Once they pull off the road, the two men talk about anything and everything, as they always do, passing a joint back and forth.

They keep talking even after the joint burns out. Jon throws the roach out the window. Burt starts telling Jon a story about this time he hooked up with an older woman back in high school. He uses graphic detail to illustrate his points, and Jon gets the idea a little too well. Burt’s a great storyteller. By the end of the tale, Jon has a raging boner, one that’s a little too obvious under the fabric of his pants. Jon tries to casually adjust himself, but realizes Burt is watching his hand. He presses the heel of his palm into the outline of his dick, willing it to go away.

When he looks up, Burt nods at him, as if to say _go on_. He licks his lips.

Jon grabs his dick through his pants. He looks over at Burt, which is a mistake, because Burt’s looking at him so intently he feels fragile. Jon looks down at his hand instead and unzips his pants. He tugs his dick out, wrapping his long fingers around it tightly. He gives it a few experimental strokes, touching himself with lazy attention.

“Is that all you got in you?” Burt asks, and it sounds like a challenge. He works himself faster, and Burt perks up with interest. “Harder,” Burt encourages, and Jon thinks he’s going to lose it. Jon squeezes harder, pressing his thumb against the smooth head before taking himself back in hand and working his fist over his cock. 

Jon closes his eyes, scared to look over at Burt, although Burt is watching him, captivated. Burt doesn’t touch him, just gives gentle direction, telling him how to touch himself.

“That’s it,” Burt murmurs when Jon bucks into his fist. Jon parts his lips, unaware of the way he looks in the moonlight, sweat lining his brow, the tips of his cheeks turning pink. “Show me what you like.”

Jon makes a tight fist, fucking his hand, panting a little when he picks up speed. He moves faster until he comes, a white mess all over his hand, and he feels clumsy as he looks for a place to wipe his fingers.

Burt pops the glove box open and pulls out a stack of napkins, which Jon takes with a shaky hand, trying to catch his breath. He leans his forehead against the window.

*

Another night at the bar turns into another night with Burt. They unwind in Burt’s hotel room, drunk and about ready to pass out when Burt kisses the corner of Jon’s mouth, pulling back to look at him with a pleased half-smile.

“What are you thinking?” Jon asks.

“I’m thinking about you,” Burt says smoothly. 

“You don’t have to seduce me, you know,” Jon says, matter-of-fact. He was already quite fond of Burt Reynolds. 

Burt kisses his neck. “What if I wanted to?”

Jon rolls his eyes and sticks his hand down Burt’s pants. It’s hard to see in the dark but Jon call tell Burt’s huge, thick in his hand. He presses his thumb against the slit before jacking him off, gaining confidence when Burt moans for him. Jon works him harder, really gets him going, flicking his wrist with practiced ease. Then Burt’s pawing at Jon’s pants, reaching for the zipper.

Jon gasps when Burt wraps his fingers around Jon’s dick. It’s been so long since a man touched him but it feels right with Burt. Everything feels right with Burt.

They jerk each other off, fists wrapped around each other’s dicks, stroking one another until they come. Jon passes out soon after, drunk and sated and enamored with Burt, and eventually Burt drifts off to sleep next to him.

It’s the first time they trade handjobs but it certainly won’t be the last. 

*

Jon second guesses himself constantly, and this thing with Burt is no different. Jon’s been with men before, but not men like _Burt_. His eyes are dark and charming, and he’s got a persuasive smile that disarms Jon in every way. Burt’s built like a football player, because he is one. Jon loves the way it feels when Burt wraps him up in his strong arms. Jon was by no means a small man at six foot two, but Burt had a way of sweeping him up and holding him that made him feel like a girl on prom night.

Burt does this thing where he’ll tilt Jon’s chin up with his fingertip. It draws Jon’s eyes right up to Burt’s, which are always open and inviting, usually twinkling with a sly gleam. He’s got every move in the book, and then some. After the chin-tilt move, it’s either a hand on the lower back to pull Jon in close, or straight to an open-mouthed kiss that steals his breath away.

This time, Burt chooses both plays, and he brings Jon closer as he plants a kiss on his mouth. Jon’s eyes flutter shut and he lets Burt kiss him, sensuous and slow. It might be a fast and furious fling, but Burt tries his damnedest to make it feel like anything but. Jon tries not to let Burt’s romancing go to his head.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” Burt asks, and Jon sinks down onto his hotel bed. Jon spreads his knees and Burt kneels in between them, leaning down to capture Jon’s mouth in another kiss. 

Jon rests his hands on Burt’s hips while Burt goes for the top button of his shirt. The two men had fooled around before, fumbled handjobs and hidden kisses any time they could sneak away from set, but it had never gone this far.

Once Burt gets Jon’s shirt off, he pushes him down with a hand on his chest. He aims for Jon’s blue jeans, unzipping them with quick hands. They’re around Jon’s knees and completely gone before he can think twice. 

Burt sits up and strips off his shirt. Jon eyes him, enjoying the view.

Burt kisses his way down Jon’s chest, running his tongue across his belly button. He tucks two fingers in the waistband of Jon’s underwear and pulls them down, following with his mouth. Jon smooths his hands over Burt’s strong, tanned shoulders.

“Well, this ain’t fair,” Jon says, realizing Burt’s still got his pants on.

Burt looks up from where he’s mouthing kisses onto Jon’s hip. “Life’s not fair,” he says with a wink. He’s about to take Jon in his mouth when Jon grabs his bicep and hoists him up. Jon manhandles Burt onto his back so that he can reach for his fly, unbuttoning his dark jeans and sliding the zipper down painfully slow. Jon pulls them down Burt’s legs, tossing them to the floor.

Jon licks his lips instinctively at the sight of Burt’s cock. 

“Well,” he says, taking in the size. 

“You do something to me,” Burt says, “something wild.”

“I can see that,” Jon smirks. He gives Burt's cock a few casual strokes. He waits for Burt to jump him, but he never does. "You all right?" he asks, tapping Burt's knee. 

“I - uh - how do you feel about… you think you could… ” Burt exhales. “Fuck me?”

Jon noses the dark hair on Burt’s thighs. “You must be kidding me.” A dick like that was begging to be used.

“I shouldn’t have said nothing,” Burt says, closing his eyes with a sigh.

Jon looks up at him and squeezes. “Hey now.” Leaning over Burt, he runs his fingers down Burt’s side. “You tell me how you want it,” Jon says confidently, pressing kisses to Burt’s neck. “That’s how I’ll give it to you.” Burt just about bats his eyes, and Jon feels a surge of something swell up in his chest. He puts it to the side so he can focus on the task at hand and give Burt what he wants. Burt warms back up after a few kisses. “Talk to me, big fella.”

“Some things I don’t know how to ask for,” Burt says, fingers digging deep into Jon’s hip. Jon’s never seen Burt look scared of a damn thing before but this is as close as it gets. 

Lust blooms in his heart. Jon kisses Burt soundly. “Get on your hands and knees, Buddy.”

Burt turns over. Jon can’t believe the sight in front of him. Burt’s back is muscular, athletic. His cheek is resting on his folded arms, and he rises up to meet Jon’s hands. “Fuck,” Jon thinks to himself - or does he say it out loud?

Jon is two knuckles deep in Burt Reynolds when he realizes this might go a little easier with something to ease the way. “Hey, uh, you got somethin’?”

“There’s Vaseline in the drawer,” Burt tells him.

Jon fetches it, coating his fingers liberally and then adding some more. He fingers him open, stretching him with one finger, then two. Jon’s cock twitches and he reaches out to get a handful of Burt’s ass, pale and firm under his fingertips. 

“You gonna fuck me sometime today?” Burt asks, trying to turn his head to sneak a glimpse of Jon.

Jon frowns, smacking Burt’s behind playfully. “Nothing good ever came of being in a hurry,” he insists. “Let me savor you.”

Jon sees pink rise on the back of Burt’s neck. He drops a kiss there before pushing inside Burt, hands on his hips for leverage. Jon slides inside him slowly, eyes slipping shut, blissed out from the heavenly way Burt feels around him.

Burt takes him like a champ, pushing his hips back to meet Jon’s thrusts.

Jon wipes the sweat from his hairline with the back of his hand. He trails his hand down Burt’s side, smacking his rear again. He eventually decides to grip the back of Burt’s neck, thrusting forward forcefully until he finds a rhythm. “Come on, babe,” he grunts, pistoning his hips. 

They move in a haze of sweat-slick limbs, mouths and hands all over each other. Burt reaches a hand down to palm his own cock, jerking himself off as Jon fucks him deeper.

“Jonny,” Burt manages to groan as Jon fucks him, thrusting faster as the pressure builds and he gets close. Jon clings to Burt, fingernails leaving little half-moon shapes on his shoulder. Jon lets out a deep moan, then he comes inside Burt, pressing his forehead to Burt's shoulder and taking a few shaky breaths.

Jon pulls out tenderly. After catching his breath, Jon flops back on the mattress beside Burt. 

“Well, damn,” Burt says, letting out a whistle. Jon eyes him with a half-smile before surprising him by leaning over for a kiss. 

“You got a cigarette?”

“In my pocket,” Burt says, motioning to the floor. Jon hangs off the bed to grab them, weaseling out the pack of cigarettes from the discarded pair of pants. He slips two cigarettes under his lip and lights them, handing one to Burt when he climbs back up on the bed.

Jon tucks a strand of Burt’s hair behind his ear, a sentimental gesture that he can’t keep himself from making.

“That sure was somethin’,” Burt drawls, drawing in a mouthful of smoke. He exhales and Jon kisses him; he tastes like nicotine and whiskey.

Jon finds a spot beside Burt, still a reasonable distance away. He fluffs a pillow, noticing Burt watching him. He’s not sure if he should stick around or go back to his room, or what.

“Get over here,” Burt insists, lifting his arm up and patting the covers. “I don’t bite.” Jon gives in, moving back and letting Burt wrap his arms around him. None of his other past encounters had ever featured this component, no post-coital affection or friendly petting. Burt didn’t seem too keen on that kind of fag shit, but he also didn’t seem like he was entirely opposed to the idea, either. He just tucks Jon under his arm like he’s meant to be there. 

Burt drums his fingers against Jon’s bare skin. “Say, why don’t you stick around tonight?” Burt asks.

Jon gives him an almost demure smile. Burt had a way of making you feel like you were the only one in the room. He’s warm and strong, and so incredibly solid where Jon is pressed against his side. 

Jon falls asleep with Burt pressed against his back, sheets tangled around their waists.

It’s the morning light that finally stirs Jon, and he wakes up thinking he’s in his own room because the bed is empty. It’s not until he sees Burt fixing a cup of coffee that he remembers whose room he’s in.

Jon hops out of bed, forgetting he’s naked until he sees the look on Burt’s face, the dog. He picks up the discarded clothes, holding them in front of his package until he sorts through them all and finds his pants. He ignores Burt’s amused smile as he pulls them back onto his long legs.

“You want a cup of joe?” Burt asks, raising his mug.

Jon shakes his head, declining. “I should… I have lines to run.”

Jon’s about to walk through the hallway with his shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, but Burt catches him before he can leave, spinning him around and doing up the buttons. “Try to look a little less scandalous,” Burt winks, and Jon can’t help but lean forward and catch his mouth in a kiss. “Will I see more of you?”

“You mean that wasn’t enough?” Jon asks, motioning to his body. “You’ll be seeing me every damn day ’til we wrap and you know it.”

“Just making sure.”

Jon walks down the hall wearing the same clothes he wore the night before, shoes in his hand. He’d call it a walk of shame but he just spent the night with _Burt Reynolds_ , and there’s nothing shameful about that. His room isn’t that far from Burt’s, and he’s not likely to run into any of the other guys from the movie this early on a weekend. Only Ned’s room is located between Jon and Burt’s, and he’s almost past that particular door. 

Jon starts moving a little faster when he hears the creak of a door opening. A few moments later, he’s made it inside his own room. Safe, he leans back against the door to catch his breath. The events of last night still feel unreal.

*

Jon spends the night in Burt’s bed more often than he plans to; it just becomes something that happens. If they don’t fall into bed fucking, they fall into bed laughing. 

One morning Jon sneaks into the bathroom, footsteps muffled by the sound of running water. Burt is taking a shower, and Jon can almost see the outline of his body through the shower curtain. He pulls the curtain aside - just barely - and slips in behind Burt quietly, wrapping his hands around Burt from behind and tugging him toward Jon so that Jon’s chest is pressed right up against Burt’s back. 

Burt laughs. “Make yourself useful,” he says to Jon, handing him a bar of soap.

Jon lathers Burt up, soapy hands slipping over wet skin. He starts at Burt’s neck and works his way down, through the dark hair on Burt’s chest and down to his pelvis. He soaps up Burt’s cock, his own erection growing where it’s pressed against Burt’s backside. Jon works his hand over Burt’s cock. He makes sure to sneak in a grope of Burt’s firm backside, passing his hand over the curve of Burt’s ass. 

Burt turns around, taking Jon’s hips in his hands and giving him a deep kiss. 

“Mmm,” he murmurs, and Jon cups Burt’s cheek, his thumb grazing the hint of stubble on Burt’s jaw.

Burt kisses that smooth stretch of skin between Jon’s neck and shoulder before getting his hand on Jon’s cock, pumping faster, and it’s not long at all before he’s coming, spilling over Burt’s hand with a gasp. Burt grins and steps back under the stream of water.

Jon braces his hand on the wall, leaning his forehead against the cool tile. “I came in here to surprise _you_ ,” he complains, laughing. “And look what you’ve done.”

*

The day after they finish shooting _Deliverance_ , Burt “borrows” a maintenance truck from the resort and they drive out to the Tallulah Gorge. Burt gets a whoop out of taking the mountain curves at top speed, and more than once Jon thinks the truck is about to skid off the edge and down into the rhododendron. He laughs anyway; Burt seems to know what he’s doing.

Burt parks on a gravel shoulder. They hike up one of the trails together, past pine trees and mountain laurel, until they reach a large tower. “The hell is that?” Jon asks, taken aback by the strange iron structure in the woods. He walks up to it, peering up at the contraption.

“You don’t remember? One of the Wallendas did his thing here a few years back.” The famous tight-rope walker Karl Wallenda had crossed the massive gorge on a high wire the year before in 1970. 

“Glad they took it down,” Jon says, looking around. “You’re crazy enough to try crossing it your own damn self, even with a cracked tailbone. How much did that nutjob get paid?”

“Nobody gets rich in the circus… or in the stuntman’s union,” Burt laughs.

They keep climbing, Burt occasionally pressing a hand to his back but disguising the pain well, and eventually they come to an overlook. There’s an iron fence at the edge of the overlook to keep people away from the gorge. It’s a breathtaking view, a miles-deep crevice lined with rocks and trees. Jon can see pieces of a teal-blue waterfall down in the canyon below. It feels like they’re at the top of the world.

“This has been a good time,” Burt says, watching Jon instead of the view. The wind ruffles Jon’s blond hair.

“Do you say that to all the girls?” Jon laughs. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” Burt’s eyes brighten at Jon’s statement. Jon was going to try his damnedest to stick around this time. None of Jon’s flings with men ever meant much to him, but there was just something about Burt - he was destined to be a big star. Jon was sure of it. Even if he wasn't, Jon had started falling for him anyway. Jon bumps his knee against Burt’s. “Don’t you talk about me in the past tense.”

Burt looks him in the eye, stares him down with those soulful brown eyes, then he’s cozying up to him and running a hand through Jon’s hair and dragging him into a wild kiss.

Is this why Burt took him so far into the woods? So he could kiss him out in the open, out in the middle of God’s green earth, without anyone stumbling on them? It doesn’t matter. Jon opens his mouth under Burt’s, lets Burt part his pink lips with his tongue. God forbid someone stumbled upon them now, Burt with his knee between Jon’s legs and his thick arms holding him close. It was certainly something, the two men wrapped around each other in the forest clinging together like their lives depended on it.

They kiss each other until they realize that they’re not that far off the trail and someone could still walk up on them. 

It’s a quiet walk back to the car. Jon fantasizes about reaching out and touching Burt, but he doesn’t, just walks beside him when the trail is wide enough and right behind him when it’s not.

Burt’s hand brushes against the small of Jon’s back as he walks around to the driver’s side of the truck.

“You ever been to Florida?” Burt asks Jon before starting the engine. Jon shakes his head no, and Burt gives him a resolute smile. “We’re going to change that. You’ll fit in perfect,” he says, ruffling Jon’s blond hair. “Digging your toes in the sand, feelin’ the sun shine on your cheeks.” Burt traces a finger down Jon’s angular cheekbone.

Jon shrugs away from Burt’s hand and looks down with a smile. “Will you be there?”

Burt’s own smile warms up. He pulls the finger-on-the-chin move that Jon’s so susceptible to, that absolute flirt, and looks into Jon’s bright blue eyes. “Well, I think we could figure that out.”

Looking in Burt’s eyes now, he knows he’d be a fool to let Burt go. Jon had smiled more in the past two months than he had in the past five years.

“I can hear the waves now,” Jon answers, and he can picture it, the two of them side by side in the sand.

Burt kisses him on the cheek and starts the car.


End file.
